Best Days of Your Life my A...

Oh dear, time for the school photographs...I seem to be
missing a bunch of these. The other sad thing is that not only do I have
no idea any more who the people in the pictures are, I'm not even sure I
can spot myself half the time. If you come across yourself in these
pictures, please drop me a quick
email
to let me know who else you remember so I can update them. If you know
me from school (and will admit to it...) and have a picture I don't
have, I would really appreciate a copy.

Before real school...

Don't remember much, most of this is covered under
Do You
Remember the 60s? I know I went to Sunday School, amazingly enough,
up at Stockwood Free Church at least once, maybe more, but only have dim
memories of being in a small room with lots of wooden chairs. Maybe they
shoved me in the closet...

Mum was stuck with and my sister so went wherever she did. Visited
someone who had a Bar shaped like the front of a ship once, very 60's, playing in
that was fun...

Waycroft Infants School

The local school in Stockwood, a short walk away up the lane between
Ladman Road and Selden Road, next to
our neighbors house. You can still set your clock by the tidal noise of
kids up and down the lane and chatting mum's waiting at the opening.
There was a Lollipop lady too, who's name I can't remember...

I can't say I remember my first day at
Waycroft. I was in the Infants, the side that had the big concrete
Cat face climbing structure. I've got a feeling that wasn't there when I
first started but I know it was a feature for many years. I remember
there always being a lot of old tires around on the field to play with.
They always had water stuck inside the rims, oddly hard to get out and
would splosh out on you. Playgrounds had lots of concrete structures and
exposed metal workings, none of this protect your kids with bark and
rubber nonsense.

One of my first fight memories was in the Infants playground. Not
sure what happened but I know I ended up with a big tuft of hair and a
matting of scalp clutched in my hand at the end of it. I never was good
at fighting, I would lose my temper and become pretty mindless until it
was all over. The other guy was usually in pretty bad shape when I got
all my marbles back but then again so was I, shaking uncontrollably and
sobbing like a big girls blouse but never with any actual physical damage to
myself. It would take me a long time to come down from the experience,
which would confuse the intervening authority figure. They didn't know
who to look after and who to tell off. The blubbering but intact kid or
blubbering and leaking gore one.

I didn't get picked on much because
pathetic as my flailing fighting style was, I would so lose it mentally
it just wasn't worth it. The other guy could never count on walking away
with all his hair that's for sure. Reminds me of another one; no idea
how old I was but they were building the Bowmead Old People's Home
opposite the shops and had an impressive mountain of dirt piling up. I'd
say it was about 15 feet high but this is in remembering in
8-yearoldorama vision. King of the castle was played, a dispute and a
fight inevitably broke out, then some kid was launched off the top by
me. He bounced a long way down on his back with impressive loss of skin.
I would have been in a lot more trouble when his parents tracked mine
down if he wasn't twice my size and a lot older.

I was way, way behind at school, I couldn't even write my own name
and was singled out for "special" attention. I had one to one sessions
to try to teach me to read and write, conducted in the privacy of the
Coat Peg area. It didn't work, I wouldn't be able to read until I was
moved to the front of the class (where my glasses could cope better), by
Ms Davies in 3rd year of Junior school. I had two things going against
me; I couldn't see very well and I was too shy to tell anyone. My kids
have been told not to write like Daddy because to this day I still do it
all backwards. Keyboards, thank you. I hated Art because I could never
get what they wanted me to do, I couldn't do free expression, I needed to
be told. Plus I couldn't write my name on my work. I spent most of my
time looking out the window imagining towers that could be built with
all those old tires and wondering when we were ever going to use the
wooden construction kits on the shelves over the windows. Apparently
they were decorative only because we never did get our hands on them.

These days kids would use aprons in art, we all had one of your dad's
white shirts, worn backwards. Tobacco boxes were everywhere, used to
hold crayons or other art supplies and we made cars by gluing bottle
tops on old cigarette packets. Most of the crappy old keep them quiet
for five minutes art we did was on Computer Paper; drawing or painting
on the side that didn't have stripes and numbers printed all over it.
This was the old line printer paper with perforated edges that came in
reams and reams. I never liked it because it was the wrong size for real
paper. It felt worthless and was. You knew nobody expected you to be
producing anything worthwhile when they gave you computer paper to work
on. Only the talented were given Sugar paper to sue.

I remember making a couple of Toby Jugs from jam jars and papier
mache that my mum still has.

I think my friends (yeah, singular...) name was Mark Thomas. He lived
in Chestnut Close, at end of Ladman Road. I used to go with him after
school to hang out at his house. The the first thing he would do on
arrival is go for a poo. He'd been in there for ever and I'd wait like a
lemon at the top of his stairs. He was probably hiding from me.

Waycroft Primary School

I think my first teacher was Mrs Moore, folowed by a guitar playing hippie
whose name I can't remember,
then Mrs Davies who finally taught me to read. Mrs Outhwaite was my last
teacher and seemed to quite like me for some reason, I won the miniature
garden contest at the school fete by her efforts. Really, really vague
on the names of just about everyone though.

The headmaster was Mr Burley and Deputy Head was Mr James. I am
cheating here because the names come from the friendsreunited
contributions of others. Mr Burley presided over assembly in the morning
and encouraged kids to bring in interesting objects which he would talk
about. After our trip to Lloret De Mar in 1968 he talked about my
souvenir Toledo steel letter opener. We sat cross legged and fidgeting
on the floor for assembly in the main hall. Hymns, prayers and all the
usual dire warnings. Mr Burley had a pond outside hsi office, I got into
trouble with his secretary for launching my home made balsa boat in it
one day, she yanked it out and broke it which I was not happy about. The
pond would freeze over and we would throw stuff to try to crack the ice.

There were monitors for things; the milk monitor kept the holy nail
for making an opening in the foil top of the Government milk bottle
through which a special short Government straw was inserted. Plunging
the nail through a crate full's worth of milk bottles seemed a lot of
fun and responsibility. The was also a coat peg monitor but I can't
remember what their duties were exactly. A coat peg was the only
territory you could call your own. Hanging from it would be your coat
(duh) and your PE kit. PE Kit was a pair of Plimsoles (all Plimsoles
were identical, no fancy trainers or sneakers). Plimsoles were kept in a
drawstring bag made from an old pillowcase or some other material sewn
by your mum. Mine was light blue.